


The Three Times a Guy Wasn't The Father and The One Time He Was

by sksdwrld



Series: Rock the Cradle [3]
Category: Original Work
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-30
Updated: 2014-04-30
Packaged: 2018-01-21 10:19:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,839
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1547171
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sksdwrld/pseuds/sksdwrld





	The Three Times a Guy Wasn't The Father and The One Time He Was

Carlos tried not to roll his eyes as Nick passed him a sealed envelope and a smug look. "Let's have a little dramatic flair, if you don't mind."

"Dramatic flair...dramatic flair..." Carlos murmured, waving the envelope around in the air. He held it to his forehead and closed his eyes. "I'm getting a distinct 'it ain't you' vibe..."

"Less flair, more drama, Munez," Nick prompted. Carlos rolled his eyes and tore open the envelope. Nick immediately yanked it from him and passed over another sealed envelope. "Try again, and let's try to keep the viewer's attention for just a little longer this time.

Carlos glared at Nick, who was nodding with approval. He closed his eyes, silently apologizing to Gina and fingered the envelope he knew exactly how this was going to look on screen. Like a last ditch prayer that it wasn't him. He slid his finger under the lip and tore the envelope open with three easy tugs. Glancing at the camera again, Carlos pulled the tri-folded letter out. He bit his lip. The so-called moment of truth.

Shaking the letter out, Carlos next held it up and scanned it. The contents were no shock, but he had to play it up for the MTV crowd. "Oh my God." He glanced at the camera, then back down at the letter. "Oh my God." Carlos fought to keep the grin off of his face. "Oh. My. God. Carlos Munez, you are not the father!" His mouth formed a dramatic 'O' and he dropped the paper in favor of laying his hands on either side of his cheeks, Macaulay Caulkin style. He gave it up in favor of adopting an invisible microphone and a game show host voice. "Now that you've won the super bowl, what are you going to do now? Well, Johnny, I'm taking my girlfriend to Disneyworld!"

Carlos brought the first two fingers of his right hand to his lips and then turned them out in a peace sign. "Love you, Gina-baby!" Rolling his eyes again, Carlos tugged off his battery pack and tossed it, tangled, trailing wires and all, to Nick. "I think we're done here."

***

"Like this is gonna make a fucking difference?" Jarron snorted, reaching for the letter. He snatched it close to him and tore one end open in a single motion.

He pulled the letter out, pausing a moment to look at the camera. "For the record, I told that slut to have an abortion." With perfunctory motions, Jarron unfolded the envelope. His brows furrowed as he read the letter to over and over. Then, a slow smile curved over his lips. "It ain't mine. Just like I said all along, it ain't mine! Ha, take that you dumb whore!" He whooped and hooked the air with his left fist.

"Yee-ah!" Jarron smirked and mugged his chin at the camera before leaning in. "Here's a lesson for all my homeboys-Wrap it before you tap it yo, bitches be cray-cray."

Crumpling the paper, Jarron tossed it at the lens and leaned forward. "I'm outie!"

***  
"Alright Malone, you're up. Give us something good, make your momma proud." Nick winked and passed the letter over.

Matt reached out and took it, passing it to his other hand before pulling his cigarette from his mouth. Smoke billowed out from between his lips as he asked, "I gotta do this right now?"

"Today would be nice," Nick shrugged. "But by all means, draw it out. I'll send Jeff here out with you." He beckoned to the camera man who gave a thumbs up in response.

"Wonderful," Matt scowled and sucked his cigarette down to the filter before stabbing it out in the ashtray between them. As he stood, he tucked the envelope into his back pocket, then fished a fresh cigarette out of the pack, raising it in silent cheers toward Nick. "It was total shite doing business with you, and I pray we never meet again."

"Awww Matty, you hurt my feelings..." Nick pouted momentarily but within seconds, it transferred into a grin.

"Don't fucking call me that," Matt grumbled, pushing past the smarmy interviewer and flicking him two fingers. Nick's laughter followed him halfway back to the _Terra Firma_ tour bus.

Wrenching open the door, Matt climbed aboard, and having forgotten Jeff was tailing him, started to slam it shut behind him. "Hey!" the cameraman protested. Matt just kicked the door back open and slogged to the front lounge where he threw himself down on one of the benches. He lit the cigarette that had been dangling from the corner of his lips since he'd left the MTV bus then dug the letter out of his back pocket, eyeing it as he tossed it down beside him. The longer he looked at it, the faster his heart began to beat.

But this was stupid: Matt knew he wasn't the father. There wasn't a chance in hell that he was, but that was exactly the sort of bullshit game Nick (whom Matt was pretty sure was The Devil) would play just to fuck with him. He laid his right ankle over his left knee and sat back, pinching the bridge of his nose as he thought about Eddie and the shit she was going through. Matt had done all he could for her, but it wasn't enough. She was out there, somewhere in New York, with a baby in her arms, waiting on these same results. He wondered how the fuckers at MTV were planning on breaking the news to her; how she was handling the wait.

After he finished his smoke, he picked up the envelope and tore it open. A cursory glance told him what he already knew-he wasn't a match. But damn if his stomach didn't clench anyway. A sinking sense of disappointment washed over him and Matt was surprised to find that more than a little part of him was wishing that it was him after all.

"Bloody hell..." Matt left the letter on the bench and got up. From the corner of his eye, he watched the cameraman zoom in on the letter, then on him as he pulled a bottle of Jameson from the cabinet. Passing Jeff a hard look, Matt retreated farther into the recesses of the bus and hoped like hell he wasn't followed.

***

"What's this?" Elliot said, looking at the camera crew in confusion as Nick reached past Jammer, handing a sealed envelope across the picnic table.

"The results of the paternity test." Elliot accepted them with a frown, then looked pointedly at the camera again. Nick rolled his eyes. "We're contracted for a dramatic reveal; Carlos and Matt will get the same treatment."

"I don't want to be filmed." Elliot said, point blank.

Nick shrugged. "The label who holds your contract made one with us as well. Afraid you don't have much of a choice. You could call a lawyer, I guess, but against the big shots from MTV and the record company, you really don't stand a chance."

Elliot looked to Jammer, who didn't look very amused, but said nothing in his defense. Scowling, he acquiesced. "Fine."

"Great." Nick passed Elliot the battery pack and mic wire, then took a roll of tape out of his pocket.

"What?" Elliot gaped. "You want me to do this now? No, I can't, I'm not ready."

"Haven't you been waiting eight months for this moment?" Nick asked, tearing a strip of the tape off.

"Yeah, but...but you can't just spring it on me!" Elliot protested. 

"Consider it your exit interview." Nick grinned and gestured for Elliot to get a move on. "If you're not the father, this is the end of the road for you."

Swallowing, Elliot glanced again at Jammer and asked, "...and if I am?"

"Then you get an all-expenses paid trip to New York to visit with Eddie and the baby."

Jammer snorted softly. Elliot just stared.

"I have all day," Nick reminded.

"Elliot doesn't," Jammer finally spoke up. "He's got shit to do."

"Well," Nick smirked. "I guess he'd better get a move-on."

Flustered, Elliot stood and clipped the battery onto the back of his pants. His hands were already shaking as he fumbled with the wire. Jammer reached out and snatched the tape away from Nick, then held a hand up to Elliot. Elliot stopped moving, his shirt wrenched up in one hand, and watched as Jammer put the tape on the wire and then moved it in place. It was Elliot who smoothed the tape down and he dropped his t-shirt, then stepped over the bench, grabbing the letter at the last moment.

"Where are you going?" Nick asked.

"I need some privacy...as much as I can get, anyway." Elliot snapped and then stalked off, the cameraman following a safe distance behind as if Elliot were the volatile one. He stopped in the middle of the field, halfway to a large oak tree. Tall grasses swayed around his knees and the sky was clear and blue behind him.

As far as scene composition, Nick thought it wasn't half bad. Elliot glanced back at them and as Nick gave a cheery wave, Elliot reached back and switched the mic off. "That fucking shit," Nick murmured.

Jammer laughed, "Good for him." But Nick couldn't be bothered to even give him a dirty look. He was enraptured. Unlike the others, this shoot was a one time deal. The emotion was going to show whether there was sound or not.

For a long while, Elliot was motionless and simply stared at the envelope. Then, he took something from his pocket and neatly ripped the top seam open. He took the letter out, folded the envelope and stuck it in his back pocket. Holding the letter like a lifeline, Elliot closed his eyes and turned his face skyward.

"Thought he was an atheist," Nick commented.

"Desperate times call for desperate measures," Jammer replied. "A godless man is a hopeless man. And he is desperately hoping..."

Elliot took a deep breath and a single step forward before unfolding the letter. His shoulders slumped and his face fell. Jammer sucked in a breath and started to stand. Nick fluttered his hand outward, wordlessly telling him to stay. They wouldn't need to touch it up much at all: in slow motion, Elliot put his palm over his face and crumbling the letter to his chest, dropped to his knees.

"Oh, oh...he is fucking good," Nick laughed, breathless with the thrill of the moment.

"You just tore his heart out," Jammer said in awe. "He thinks his life is over."

"I know, it's great." As Elliot pitched forward and appeared to throw up, Nick snorted.

Jammer pushed away from the table and strode toward him. When Jammer reached him, Elliot first held his hand out to distance him but then Jammer crouched beside him and Elliot crumpled against him.

Nick laughed. "And his Native American lover consoles him in his time of need. Good fucking shit."


End file.
